


Eudaimonia

by througheden



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/througheden/pseuds/througheden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eudaimonia (n.): lit. "human flourishing"; a contented state of being happy, healthy, and prosperous. </p><p>"Spencer wasn’t sure how building a treehouse with Jack Hotchner somehow led to him flat on his back in said treehouse, pinned under Aaron Hotchner, but there he was—breathless and euphoric."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arcadian

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a little fic request from an anon on Tumblr and, as most of my 'little fics' do, has developed a mind of its own. (Personally, I think chapter two is much better but that's just my own bias.)

_"The romance of love, the romance of solitude, the romance of objecthood, the romance of ancient pyramids and distant stars are means of making contact with the mystery. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice. But I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know: 1. Everything is part of it. 2. It's never too late to have a happy childhood." -Tom Robbins._

* * *

Spencer wasn’t sure how building a treehouse with Jack Hotchner somehow led to him flat on his back in said treehouse, pinned under Aaron Hotchner, but there he was—breathless and euphoric.

Through the haze clouding his cerebrum, he managed to recall how this all began.

* * *

 

A few days previous—before Aaron left for a mandatory leadership conference— Jack sprung the idea on the two men.

"Daddy, can we build a treehouse?" He'd asked, snuggling between his father and Spencer on the couch.

Spencer ached to agree, never having had a treehouse as a child and always having wanted one, but he bit his tongue. Though he and Aaron had been living together for over a year, he was still unsure how much input he could comfortably offer in parental decisions.

"I don't see why not, but it would have to wait until I get back from my trip next week," Aaron said, biting the inside of his bottom lip. It was a small tick; a nervous habit Spencer noticed whenever Aaron had to disappoint his son.

As expected, Jack's shoulders sagged just a bit and his teeth disappeared from view as his smile faded.

"Mkay," was all he muttered.

Visible tension crept up Aaron's shoulders and into his neck as both he and Spencer watched Jack scoot off the couch and slink off to his room.

"I'm still disappointing him," he said once Jack was out of earshot. He leaned forward, his chin resting on a peak formed by the tips of his fingers.

Spencer knew that Aaron had been struggling to balance his role as an SSA with his responsibilities as a father and, try as he might, he never seemed to feel comfortable with the balance he struck.

"I-- Aaron, I could build it with him this weekend while you're away," Spencer volunteered.

"I don't want you to feel obligated to pick up my slack, Spencer. It'd be a lot of work and I know you're busy with your dissertation," Aaron sighed into his hands. But for all of his explanation, Spencer saw the tell-tale tension roll out of his shoulders ever so slightly.

"My dissertation isn't due for another three months and I have a Ph. D. in Engineering. I can handle building a child's treehouse, as long as you don't mind," he hedged. "If you'd rather be there and build it with him, that's completely understandable."

Aaron looked back at him from his still-slouched position. "You're in his life, too, Spencer. I want you to feel comfortable with him. Maybe it'd be good for you two to have something your own." 

"So... is that a yes?" Spencer asked, desperately fighting back the bounce in his foot as a result of his own excitement.

Aaron chuckled under his breath and nodded in the direction of Jack's room. "Go tell him."

The thrill in Jack's voice and the warmth of tiny arms around his legs when he broke the news was all the assurance Spencer needed.

 

*** 

Aaron left the following afternoon after a barrage of hugs from Jack, countless ‘be good for Spencer!’s, and a chaste kiss from Spencer at the front door; their more passionate goodbyes were said behind closed bedroom doors that morning.

“Alright Jack, ready to start planning?” Spencer asked the moment the door closed.

“Yeah!” Jack nodded eagerly and followed Spencer into the kitchen. After positioning themselves at the kitchen table, Spencer began laying out a number of printed photos of treehouses he deemed manageable to build himself.

“I like that one!” The young boy exclaimed, pointing to the third picture and bouncing on his toes.

“I have lots of other choices, too, Jack. Don’t you want to see all of your options before—”

But there was no stopping the enthusiasm of an excited seven year old.

“No, that one! Let’s build that one!”

Spencer conceded, his mouth pulling up to one side. Jack had, of course, chosen the single most complex design he’d printed out.

 _Leave it to a Hotchner man_ , he couldn’t help but think to himself.

“Alright then, let’s get started.”

 

 *** 

Spencer had been right about the intricacy of the design, but to his great surprise, things went smoothly—something to which Spencer was not accustomed.

He followed the design exactly—sturdy green oak for the platform and framing, pine for the flooring, and scrap barn siding he’d found through a local salvage shop for the walls. The observation deck would be composed of the same barn siding, and the window trim of the pine flooring.

Before drilling the platform supports into the tree, he had Jack climb the rope and timber ladder for height.

It shouldn’t have surprised Spencer that Jack tried to climb as high as the ladder was allow—he was Aaron’s son, after all.

After marking the spot on the tree where Spencer thought Jack would be most comfortable, he hoisted the platform approximately seven feet up the trunk before drilling it and its supports into the tree. The mechanical cable system he designed in graduate school proved his saving grace—while Jack was able to help with suggestions and handing him small tools when necessary, the seven year old was much more content on the ground, stacking scrap wood like Legos.

Once Spencer jumped up and down on the platform and deemed it secure, he allowed Jack into the work area.

"Hey Jack, can you hand me that red hammer?" Spencer asked, holding a nail in place over a piece of barn siding.

"This one?" Jack asked, bouncing on one foot.

"You got it," he replied as Jack toted the hammer over to Spencer.

"You're a great little assistant, Jack. We're gonna have this treehouse finished in no time." 

He focused on driving the nail into the wood straight, but couldn't help catching Jack's beaming smile from his peripheral vision.

"Do you think daddy's gonna like it?" Jack wondered aloud between Spencer's hammering.

It was Spencer's turn to smile.

"He's gonna love it, Jack."

*** 

It took days of intense planning and laborious work—Spencer hadn’t felt so spent since his and Aaron’s night in a particularly remote Vermont cabin— but as Spencer stood back and watched Jack run across the observation desk, he knew it was worth it.

 

***

“I’m home!” Aaron called out, his voice echoing down the hallway.

The silence that greeted him settled strangely in his stomach and, out of habit, his right hand landed on his pistol.

“Anyone here?” He distinctly remembered seeing Spencer’s car in the driveway and it was unlike Jack not to charge him at the door.

He made his way through the living room and checked the kitchen when, through the window above the sink, he saw his son and Spencer running around what was quite possibly [the most intricate treehouse he’d ever seen](http://www.popularmechanics.com/cm/popularmechanics/images/Dq/treehouse1-470-040.jpg).

The wood was obviously salvage, worn with time but sturdy, and the windows were framed with the same care given to home windows. A mini-deck jutted out from the front, clad in more salvage wood with spindle railings high enough to keep Jack from leaning over. It wasn’t too high, just enough to allow Jack the freedom of climbing. Battery operated lanterns hung from opposite ends of the deck, illuminating the backyard against the setting sun. Looking closer, he saw the trunk of the tree inside the treehouse illuminated by strands of LED lights.

The amount of effort and care that Spencer put into the project took Aaron’s breath away.

He dropped his bags on the kitchen floor and opened the backdoor to the yard.

“I missed my welcome wagon!” Aaron called, jerking his two favorite men what looked like a game of tag.

“Daddy!” Jack shrieked, running through the treehouse and scurrying down the ladder that fell from the latch door.

Spencer remained in the treehouse, standing on the deck with his elbows leaning on the railing.

“Hey, little man,” Aaron smiled as knelt to catch the ball of dirty blonde hair racing towards him.

He rushed into him, nearly knocking Aaron backwards.

“Come on! Come see what we did!” He stammered excitedly, grabbing Aaron’s hand and towing him to what Aaron would consider more a tree sanctuary than a treehouse. 

Jack led him up the ladder—he had to give Spencer credit for its durability—and into the main fortress. The tree trunk rose up directly in the center, LED lights twinkling against the bark. Somehow, they complimented the salvaged barn siding perfectly. It was warm and inviting, the smell of wood wafting through the cabin.

It was _stunning_.

Aaron stood in the center, gawking at the construction when Spencer came in from the deck, hands in the pockets of his now destroyed jeans. His eyes were wide but his grin was confident as he watched Aaron take in the new construction.

“Do you like it, daddy?” Jack asked, tugging at Aaron’s sleeve.

“It’s amazing, Jack!” He replied, looking down at his son’s eager expression. “You did such a great job.”

Jack giggled before replying. “Spencer did it daddy, not me.”

“Hey hey, I never could have done it without a helper. Besides, you picked this one, remember?” Spencer said, bending down to Jack's eye level and offered a high five. Jack obliged, slapping his tiny hand against Spencer's.

“Wanna play pirate again?” Jack asked, glancing over to his father. “We have a—what's it called again?” Jack paused, turning to Spencer. “A spyglass,” he replied, grabbing three empty paper towel tubes from a shelf he'd installed midway up one of the walls.

“Yeah, we have a spyglass for you, too, daddy!” Spencer handed the makeshift toy to Jack before extending one out to Aaron.

“Come on, we gotta protect the ship!” Jack insisted, taking his cardboard spyglass and running out to the deck.

Spencer smiled affectionately as the young boy’s imagination propelled him out the portal leading to the deck. As he stood to follow him, Aaron placed a warm hand on Spencer's shoulder.

He turned to face him, his face every bit content.

“How did you do all of this?” Aaron asked, glancing around the room. The lighting, the materials, the little touches Spencer had added— shelving drilled into the siding and multiple beanbag chairs in the corner. Real glass shaped the windows, all of which opened, closed, and locked.

“I wanted to make it special,” Spencer shrugged, glancing out the door. “He really likes it, doesn’t he?”

“Aargh, me thinks me sees a great kraken, Cap’n!” Jack bellowed, his voice carrying from the deck through the main cabin.

“Kraken?” Aaron whispered as he pulled Spencer's closer, a relieved smile pulling at Aaron's lips that Spencer couldn't place. But he wrapped an arm around Aaron’s waist regardless, relishing in the warmth and closeness he’d missed over the past few days.

“I might have… _spun a tale_ of sea monsters for the young private,” he said, grinning playfully.

Aaron pulled Spencer in for a brief kiss—‘thank you’s and ‘I love you’s communicated through touch—before calling back, “Avast me pirates, hoist the colors!”

Spencer’s swallowed a laugh as he followed Aaron out to the observation deck.

“Aargh, it be coming fast!” Jack explained, his voice low and urgent.

Aaron knelt beside Jack, uttering faux pirate slang. Spencer felt a small tug as Jack’s hand grasped for his, pulling him down behind the railing.

A smile crested across his face as he knelt down on Jack’s opposite side. Raising his cardboard spyglass to match the two beside him, they watched for the imaginary kraken beyond the horizon.

***

Later that evening—after the kraken was banished and the ship was safe—Spencer and Aaron tucked Jack into bed. The little boy fell asleep quickly—Spencer had barely begun Moby Dick before they heard tiny, even breaths.

Once positive that Jack was sleeping soundly, Spencer and Aaron trecked out to the treehouse themselves. The moon hung low in the sky—a porcelain beacon of peace— flanked by oak branches on either side. Silence permeated the backyard, broken only by the soft crunching of leaves beneath the two agents' feet.

They climbed through the main fortress and out to the deck before positioning themselves against the side railing. Aaron leaned backwards, resting his back against the spindles while Spencer sat straight, crossing his legs. For a long moment, they basked in the silence of the moonlight.

It was Aaron who broke the silence.

“How did you do all of this?” He asked, absentmindedly running a hand across the pine flooring.

“I told you, I just wanted it to be special for Jack,” Spencer replied. “And, well, for me, too. I always wanted a treehouse,” he chuckled.

Aaron often forgot that Spencer's childhood had been as deprived as his own—that the simple joys most children relished in had been ripped away when his father left and were only pushed further away when his mother fell ill.

“You certainly succeeded. I've never seen anything like this before, Spence.” He wrapped Spencer's hand in his, stroking at his thumb before continuing. “I've been so worried. Worried that Jack would feel neglected, that he'd never be happy or imaginative again. Haley was the one who encouraged his creativity, the one who pushed his imagination. And after... after that night, I never thought I'd see his eyes light up again. I've been worried that his childhood ended when his mother died, but tonight, I saw that light again.” He turned to Spencer, the ghost of a lopsided grin gliding across his face. “I can never thank you enough for that.”

Spencer bit the inside of his bottom lip, grinning shyly as he glanced down at their now laced fingertips.

“But I can try,” Aaron whispered, his breath warm as he pulled Spencer into him.

They twisted around one another, Spencer's left leg wrapping around Aaron's hip as the two men slid to the floor. It was a dance they performed easily, resultant from practice and a comfort that they could share with no one else.

Spencer lay beneath Aaron, his breath turning ragged as his partner's lips brushed his. Warm hands hands slid up his torso and glided easily into his hair. Fingers locked there, holding Spencer as he licked his way into his mouth. Spencer couldn't stop the whimper that ghosted from his lips, nor the inadvertent jerk of his hips. He dug his fingers into Aaron's waist, desperate for the incalescent heat he'd missed while Aaron was away.

The moon rested just beyond Aaron, a silver stream of light illuminating the darkness.

And illuminating Aaron.

When Spencer looked up, eyes clouded in lust and heat, the image took his breath away. The pale light of the moon shone through Aaron, as if it were living in the very lining of his skin. He was glowing, a sacred flame against the darkness; Spencer wanted to fall into that light. He trailed his hands across Aaron's back and up his shoulders, returning Aaron's kisses more desperately now. The taste of the moonlight swirled around his tongue and settled into him, leaving him breathless and euphoric.

* * *

 

The haze in his cerebrum only worsened when he felt warmth against his thigh, Aaron's crotch having settled there as his lips trailed from Spencer's mouth to his jaw, from his jaw to crook of his neck.

“We should go inside,” Spencer choked out, his pelvis lifting, aching for pressure.

“Not the adventurous type?” Aaron whispered against his lips, cruelly repositioning his hips so his pelvis aligned Spencer's.

Grinning vengefully, Spencer slid his hands back to his waist, holding Aaron against him before leaning forward.

“I intend to make you scream, Aaron. We wouldn't want to wake the neighbors,” he breathed against his ear, biting gently at his earlobe.

It was Aaron's turn to moan against the ache in his cock.

“Yeah let's—let's go inside,” he said, rolling over to stand with Spencer.

As they retreated to their bedroom, a sanctuary of warmth and hands and tongues, Spencer couldn't help but be thankful for treehouses.


	2. Aeipathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Spencer recalled an undergraduate lecture he attended in which the professor discussed black holes. When matter dared to close to a black hole, the gravitational pull sucked it past the event horizon and ensnared it in the theoretical center of mass—the singularity. And Spencer was dangerously close a black hole of his own."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really has very little to do with treehouses but it just sort of happened. It's all fluff and porn.

The Hotchner-Reid household had become a base for Jack and his friends since the treehouse was built. Between planned playdates and spontaneous visitors, the backyard was rarely without screaming children and pretend pirates.

Unbeknownst to Aaron, it would become a morning sanctuary for Spencer as well.

It was a few months post-build and the two men had just returned from a difficult case—the unsub was captured, but not before he claimed three more innocent teenagers. Those cases always left a bad taste in Spencer's mouth, but this one was particularly difficult. Aaron saw it in the way his shoulders tightened, heard it in the rigidity in his voice. So when they returned home late that evening, Aaron tried to erase the bitter taste of failure from Spencer's tongue with his own.

A few hours later, Spencer lay spent against his partner's warm frame, his chest pressed flush against Aaron's back. He ran a soft hand through Aaron's hair and placed a gentle kiss against the base of his neck before sliding out from under the covers, slipping into sweatpants and slippers, and stumbling down the stairs. Out of habit, he paused at Jack's room, remembering only after his heart skipped two beats at the empty bed that he was at Jess' until that afternoon.

He retreated to the kitchen, instinctively heading for the coffee maker. One cup of steaming dark roast  and half a pound of sugar later, Spencer found himself seated on the deck of the treehouse, watching the sun rise from behind the trees bordering their yard.

_Their yard._

It still felt strange to Spencer, being part of a plural pronoun.

_We, our, their._

He'd never been a 'we' before and, honestly, he'd never particularly wanted to be. His life had been built upon a foundation of loss and abandonment, his walls forged of apprehension and suspicion. But he'd come to trust Aaron, to admire and respect him; he'd come to love him. Yet, for all of his devotion and dedication, he still hadn't been able to say it.

Up until yesterday, he'd been content with proving his love rather than explaining it. He enjoyed showing Aaron how much he cherished him and their relationship, how deeply he cared for Jack, and how much of himself he was willing to give to this life they'd founded.

But as he watched the sun rise, he recalled the interview he had with one of the unfortunate victim's significant other, Matthew. His words buzzed in his memory, angry hornets of his own self-doubt.

 _I never told her. I know she knew, but I never told her. How am I supposed to live with that?_ He'd sobbed, clutching the arms of the chair he'd collapsed into until his knuckles turned white. _She died with doubt._

The words had been bullets, peppering Spencer with each breath. Even now, watching the sun rise in the backyard he shared with Aaron, in the treehouse he'd built for Aaron's son, he had doubts that his actions were enough. Their life was dangerous-- the next day was never guaranteed. His breath caught as he put himself in Matthew's shoes; it was too easy for him to imagine himself as the despairing partner, too simple to feel the pain of leaving Aaron with even a hint of doubt.

His coffee had cooled enough to sip as he pulled his knees up to his aching chest. Words he'd never said bubbled up to the surface, boiling away any traces of apprehension. It was funny, he thought, how only imagining loss of something important spurred revelation of it's significance. What a cruel trick of the mind.

The sun had cleared the treetops when he heard latch door click open.

“Spencer?” Aaron said, his voice barely a whisper as if he didn't want to wake the trees in the early morning.

“Morning,” he replied. “Come sit with me,” he jerked his head towards his direction as Aaron climbed out to the deck. He positioned himself behind Spencer and pulled him back towards his chest. Spencer was grateful for the body heat, for the proximity—it dulled the ache in his chest.

“What are you doing out here?” He said, resting his chin on Spencer's right shoulder before kissing the crook of his neck.

“Thinking.”

“I gathered that much, I meant what about?”

Spencer sighed as his legs unclenched and he sprawled out. He leaned his head back against Aaron before he began.

“I talked to Abigail's boyfriend, Matthew, yesterday before we left.” He felt Aaron tense against his skin.

“He told me that he and Abigail just recently started dating, but that he'd loved her since kindergarten. His first memories involved her, his best memories were of her, and now his worst memory would be of her... and he was experiencing a lot of guilt,”

“Survivor's guilt is normal, Spence—”

“No, no, that's not... that's not where his guilt was coming from. He,” Spencer took a deep breath, “he never told Abigail that he loved her. He thought that she knew but now he has to live unsure if his actions were enough, unsure if she died having doubts.”

Warm arms wrapped around his midsection and drew him closer, holding him with a tenderness that spurred the words that had been bubbling in his chest since that morning—more likely, since he'd met Aaron.

“I don't want you to have a single doubt. I never imagined a life like this—I never thought that I'd be able to experience something this profound. For all of my studies and all of my behavioral training, I never truly understood what it meant to be selflessly in love with someone. You can read all the books you can get your hands on, watch all of the movies you can bear; you can listen to anyone who’s been in love before, but that's not enough to understand.”

Spencer's breath was shaky and his voice trembled as he continued.

“It's taken me out of my element, Aaron, because I don't have a statistic or a quote to summarize what this feels like. But now I realize that there are some things that aren't easily understood. There are some things that aren't _meant_ to be easily summarized because it would take away the complexity that characterizes them. And love is one of them. In my experience, love has only proven to be an invitation for more pain and it... it scared me. But the idea of leaving you with a single doubt about how I feel about you is paralyzing.”

He turned his body at the waist, his face mere inches from the man he'd trusted even his darkest moments. His hand came up to Aaron's shoulder, squeezing just enough to be sure this was real.

“I love you, Aaron. I love you, and I love this, and I love Jack. I'm so sorry that it's taken this long—” His voice cracked, but he never faltered in his conviction.

There was no hesitance in his voice, nor in Aaron's when he replied, “I love you, too, Spencer.” There was no doubt in the way Aaron cupped Spencer's face or apprehension in the way he pulled him close. When their lips met, there was nothing but truth and trust.

Aaron leaned forward, twisting until Spencer was securely wrapped in his arms. Their bodies slotted together as their breaths came in tandem—a symbiotic rhythm as Spencer exhaled his doubts and Aaron inhaled his passion.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, experimenting with how it rolled off his tongue. As new as it was, as alien as it sounded to his own ear, it felt... right. He stroked Aaron's cheek, his fingers grazing along his temples and brushing into his hair.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Aaron said, lacing his fingers through Spencer's hand on his cheek.

He stood slowly, Spencer following closely behind as Aaron led them through the back door of their home.

The last thing Spencer remembered before he found himself pressed against the kitchen island was the clicking of the back door. And then everything blurred—hands raked across skin, tongues danced across lips. Aaron sucked small bruises into the skin over Spencer's collarbone, his fingers entwined in Spencer's hair. Spencer dug his nails into Aaron's lumbar, pulling him closer, desperate for the warmth and pressure.

Aaron taunted him, pressing him further against the island before trailing his breath up Spencer's neck, his tongue barely ghosting along his skin. Spencer tried to pull him closer, tried reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, only to find Aaron's strong hands at his wrists.

“Not this time,” he whispered against his jawline. “I'm going to show you how much I love you. Just let me.”

Spencer's breath caught, his cock hardening with each word. Aaron pulled him against his chest and away from the island, walking them both to the bedroom.

Aaron backed Spencer against the edge of their bed, his knees folding as they collided with the mattress. He scooted up by his elbows, sliding out of his sweatpants in the process, and watched as Aaron walked to the closet. When he returned, he did so with two silk ties.

“How about something a little different?” Aaron said, his voice low and his eyes blown wide with lust, mirroring his own.

Spencer swallowed a moan, wordlessly relinquishing control.

He stripped out of his sweatpants before straddling Spencer's waist. The silk ties felt cool against his sweat-sheered skin as he wrapped them around his wrists and again around the rails of the headboard.

Kisses peppered his palms, trailing down the inside of his arms, ghosting over the remnants of track marks left burned into his skin. Spencer watched as Aaron paused at each end of every mark, covering them with a sillage of his own devotion.

“Oh god, Aaron,” Spencer choked, finding it difficult to breathe around the lump forming in his throat. The track marks had always served as a haunting reminder of his own frailty, of his own weakness— but the reverence Aaron was paying them now turned them into memorials of his fortitude.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against Spencer's skin.

He continued across his shoulder, past his collarbone, down his chest. Hands followed the trail of kisses, taunting Spencer as they paused to tease his nipples.

Spencer's hips jerked forward, clamoring for the pleasure he know only Aaron could provide.

“Has anyone ever worshiped you?” Aaron asked, pressing his lips against Spencer's left hip bone.

“Have they?” He repeated, moving to the right hip.

“No,” Spencer admitted, pre-come pearling at the head of his erection.

Aaron's tongue swirled the tip of his cock, salty pre-come settling in his mouth. Spencer groaned, rolling his hips up and off the comforter.

“ _I love how disheveled you look in the morning_ ,” he said, clasping his lips around Spencer's throbbing member. He lowered his head until his lips could kiss Spencer's hip, the tip of his erection grazing the back of his throat.

Spencer saw stars.

He came back up, tongue trailing behind his lips. Spencer felt a single digit slip past his tight entrance, his muscles tightening and swallowing Aaron's middle finger.

“ _I love the way you look in your Kevlar_.” He swirled his finger against the constriction, holding Spencer's hips down with his opposite hand.

More stars appeared behind Spencer's eyelids—supernovae against the darkness.

_Two fingers._

_More stars._

Aaron continued, working a faster pace with each bit of praise.

“ _I love the light in your eyes when you make a connection to a case_.”

“ _I love your passion for the job and the selfless way in which you devote yourself to it_.”

“ _I love how much you love Jack_.”

“ _I love your dedication and your strength, your flaws and your perfection_.”

“ _I love that you chose me all of those years ago and that you chose me again now_.”

“ _I love you_.”

Spencer recalled an undergraduate lecture he attended in which the professor discussed black holes. When matter dared to close to a black hole, the gravitational pull sucked it past the event horizon and ensnared it in the theoretical center of mass—the singularity. And Spencer was dangerously close a black hole of his own. He hovered at the event horizon, floating in pleasure and passion. Aaron's praise, combined with the heat of his mouth, threatened to pull him under.

His moans grew louder as he arched his back, desperate for more.

“What do you want, Spencer?” Aaron coaxed, one hand stroking his partner, the other firmly grasping his own erection. He watched as Spencer writhed with pleasure against the patchwork comforter, his wrists bound and his eyes blown wide with want. He'd never seen anything more beautiful, more magnificent; Spencer was a vision of pure, sacred aeipathy. “I'll give you anything you ask.”

“I want—” He started, biting back his words when Aaron climbed up the bed, their erections sliding together.

Aaron hovered for a moment, relishing in the contact, before he leaned down and covered Spencer's mouth with his own. He licked his way into Spencer's mouth, their tongues swirling for dominance. Aaron kissed him breathless and left him gasping. “Aaron—”

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed in his ear.

“Fuck me,” he begged, his pupils dilated with a kind of eroticism Aaron had yet to see and his voice steeped in a desperation that left Aaron with no choice but to oblige. He reached up to slip Spencer's wrists out of their bindings, savoring the feel of his hands across his skin.

The bedside table housed the lubricant and he searched blindly for the tiny bottle stashed away in the drawer. He flipped open the cap and squeezed a liberal amount onto his fingers. There was a rustling beneath his hips as Spencer repositioned himself. When he realized why Spencer was moving, he almost came— Spencer had turned onto his stomach. It was something he'd been aching to try but never asked; he didn't want Spencer to feel that their physical connection was superficial enough to not need eye contact or facial contact.

Aaron took a few shaky breaths, actively trying to restrain himself from lurching forward and carelessly fucking Spencer into oblivion.

He leaned back on his knees, coated his already leaking cock with the thick lubricant, and positioned himself at Spencer's puckered entrance.

Heat enveloped him as he pushed past the wall of resistance that greeted him.

Spencer propped himself up on his hands, locking his elbows as a brace. They shook when he felt his partner penetrate, slowly driving into him at just the right angle. He whimpered and grasped at the comforter, his back arched and his head tossed back.

Aaron moved slowly, always afraid of hurting him even after years of practice.

_In. Out. In. Out._

The pace was cruel—it taunted Spencer, bringing him to the brink and pulling him back.

“Harder,” he groaned, pushing back against his partner until the back of his thighs met Aaron's hips.

“Oh god.” It was Aaron's turn to moan, watching as Spencer fucked himself back against his cock.

With Spencer in control, the tempo increased and they found their rhythm. Aaron gripped Spencer's waist for leverage, pumping harder with each cry.

“Aaron, oh god, Aaron,” he choked out, his voice breaking as he chanted Aaron's name. It was a hymnal, a sacred ballad that not even the most devout choirs could mimic.

Spencer tangled his fingers in the blanket, his elbows giving out as he fell forward. Aaron reached forward and pressed a warm palm against his chest, pulling Spencer up towards him. Soft hair graced his shoulder as Spencer's head tilted back. Aaron trailed one hand up to the base of Spencer's throat, holding him as sobs of pleasure racked his body. His opposite hand reached down to stroke Spencer's throbbing cock, an action that earned him more chanting.

“Don't—stop.” His voice paused with each pump, his breath growing erratic. Aaron could feel him tense around his cock, felt the throbbing in his erection. Spencer's arms flew up, clutching at the back of Aaron's neck.

“So in love with you,” Aaron panted into Spencer's ear.

And then Spencer screamed, his orgasm slamming into him with an intensity that rivaled even the largest collapsing star. Aaron continued his rhythm, riding out Spencer's orgasm with him until he came with a cry, Spencer's name echoing off the walls.

They collapsed onto the bed, waves of passion lapping at them, threatening to pull them under. Their breaths were shallow, their limbs limp. Aaron rolled to the side—a movement that required much more effort than usual—and watched as Spencer came down from his orgasm.

A long moment passed without movement or coherent speech.

“You okay?” Aaron chuckled, his breath still shaky. Spencer rolled over onto his back, raking a hand through his sweat soaked hair.

“I tell you I love you and you go and one up me?” He grinned lazily, turning to face the man he loved.

“You're not the only one paralyzed at the idea of leaving the man you love with doubts,” Aaron replied, outstretching an arm towards Spencer. Instinctively, he scooted over and rested his head on Aaron's shoulder, warm arms wrapping him in a cocoon of security.

“I love you, Spencer—please, never doubt that.”

The sun rose high outside their window, bathing them in a soft light.

This time, when Spencer replied, there was no hesitance. No alien taste on his tongue.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

* * *

_"Enter a black hole at least once to understand her singularity." -Rosangela Maria Vieira_


End file.
